Haunted Hearts
by homesickangel
Summary: A chance encounter leads Horatio down a path of mystery and intrigue as he discovers that sometimes those you help might possibly help you! Hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Haunted Hearts

Chapter 1

Horatio Caine hated Saturdays. It seemed ironic to him that the one day of the week most people so eagerly anticipated could be so disliked by him. It hadn't always been that way. There had been times in his life, notably in his youth, when Saturdays were enjoyed immensely. But, in recent years, the day had become something to dread. It had become a span of hours when the demons he had long battled re-surfaced or ghosts from his past engulfed his thoughts.

There were those occasional Saturdays here and there that he found bearable. Those were when he was either on the board to work at the Crime Lab or when he received a call-out of some sort. They served as life savers to him helping to divert his attention away from bitter memories and restored a sense of order to his life as he crippled through the hours until Sunday arrived. It also seemed odd to him that Sundays didn't bother him quite as much. It was always Saturdays that plagued him. If he could get past Saturdays and into Sundays, he had accomplished an emotional feat.

This Saturday, early in September, was one of the bearable ones. As he stood in the kitchen around 9 AM, tightened the last bolt on the dishwasher, and re-checked the new rubber seal, he stepped back from the machine and called for Yelina to come into the room.

"Alrightee, I think I've solved your problem. Let's run this baby through a complete cycle and see if she begins leaking. If not, you should be all set," he said placing his hands on his hips as his sister-in-law walked into the room.

"Okay, I'll give it a whirl. Keep your fingers crossed," the wavy haired brunette smiled as she started the machine while Horatio washed his hands and seated himself at the breakfast bar.

As the dishwasher began humming through the wash cycle, Yelina turned and said, "I think it sounds great and I don't see any water on the floor. Sorry to call you on your day off. I should have called in a plumber, but with Ray Jr.'s tuition coming due recently, I didn't think I could spare the money. So I remembered that plumbing is one of your other talents."

"No worries, you know I'm always here to help. You also know I'll help with the tuition. How much do you need?" Horatio asked as he began fumbling for the wallet in the back pocket of his jeans.

"I didn't mean to say that I don't have the money to cover expenses, it's just that his tuition went up a little and, well, I haven't had much P.I. work coming in lately. So, I called you when the dishwasher went on the fritz. It's something I always seem to do when I'm in a jam. I call my favorite brother-in-law."

"And it has never bothered me, Yelina. It never has and it never will," Horatio countered with a tilt of his head making a mental note to deposit a thousand dollars in her account at Golden Beach Bank before he returned home.

"Well, will you at least let me fix you breakfast? I can whip up an omelet in no time. Sound good to you?"

"Sounds perfect," Horatio replied leaning forward and resting his elbows on the bar.

Watching intently Yelina as she busied herself around the kitchen, Horatio continued, "Speaking of tuition, has the boy decided on a major as of yet or is he still trying to 'find himself'?"

"He has. He has decided on a course of study that will probably be as shocking to you as it was to me."

"What should I expect? Underwater basket weaving or professional fraternity boy?" Horatio chuckled lightly.

"Criminal justice, Horatio. He plans to major in Criminal Justice. Can you believe that?" Yelina answered with a slight smile as she turned toward Horatio's bewildered facial expression.

Exhaling deeply, the red head ran a weary hand through his hair and asked, "Why? He's seen all the trappings of a cop's life. Hell, he's even lived them out in living color. Why not medicine or business or perhaps law? Why criminal justice?"

"He wants to follow in his father's footsteps, Horatio. He says he wants to restore some dignity to his father's name. We've gone round and round about this, but I'm afraid his mind is made up and I've grown tired of fighting about it. I've decided to accept it," Yelina replied as she began preparing the breakfast plates.

Rising from his seat and pouring himself a cup of black coffee, Horatio asked, "Does he have any idea what it is really like to be associated with a disgraced cop? He will have an uphill battle getting employment within any South Florida Police Department with his pedigree. He needs to realize that and study something that will build a future and not make resurrecting ghosts his life's mission."

"You're preaching to the choir, Horatio. I agree with you, but he loves his father and he wants to restore what Raymond threw away. He wants that bond. He might actually succeed if he studies hard and has any luck. He does have one positive working in his favor, you know," Yelina winked handing Horatio a fork and napkin as she seated herself opposite him.

"I take it you are referring to me, Yelina. I'm flattered, but still think it's a bad idea. Look, our professional reputation was already built. He's trying to establish one and it will be difficult. Mind if I talk to him about it?" Horatio asked taking a bite of his breakfast.

"Be my guest, but know that he can be pretty hard-headed when his mind is made up. I have no idea where he gets it from," Yelina laughed watching her brother-in-law fondly.

"It's in the Caine family DNA, I fear. Look, the dishwasher seems fine and I'd, um, better be running along. I've got a few stops to make this morning."

"Are you going out there today? Is a trip to Dade Memorial Gardens on your to do list" Yelina asked as she took up his plate and coffee mug and placed them in the sink.

"I always do. Every Saturday, just like clockwork. Don't you?"

"Not as much anymore. I've let go and decided to live a little. Talking to granite doesn't satisfy me anymore, Horatio. Besides, I'm meeting with a prospective client this afternoon and I have some dinner plans for later tonight."

"A new friend perhaps?" Horatio questioned slyly with a slight smile.

"You could say that. I loved Raymond Caine, a part of me always will, but he's gone and I want more in my life. Hope you are okay with that," Yelina answered softly as she showed her guest the front door.

Reaching for the knob, Horatio turned toward the brunette and said, "I want you to have a nice evening, Yelina. I really do and if you have any more trouble in the kitchen or anywhere else, give me call back. I'm always lurking around. I'm always keeping watch."

"Appreciated, Horatio. Don't stay too long at Dade Memorial Gardens. Do something for yourself today. It's a beautiful Saturday and they aren't coming back to us no matter how much we want them to."

Smiling sadly, Horatio gave his sister-in-law a light peck on the cheek and made his way toward his SUV saying, "Tell Ray I'll be in touch."

Twenty minutes later, the red-head stepped out of his vehicle and walked into 'Marie's Flowers on Biscayne'. Inhaling the aroma of mango scented candles, he looked around for the proprietor. Seconds later the plump, gray haired floral designer stepped away from a flower cooler, walked over to the counter, and greeted him with a furrowed forehead.

"Lieutenant Caine, I'm afraid I have to be the bearer of bad news. I had to be out of the shop yesterday and left a friend of mine in charge. She forgot about your standing order of a long-stemmed American Beauty rose every Saturday and sold all that I had in stock to another customer. I am completely out of roses and won't have any more until Monday. I'm so sorry that I can't fill your order this morning."

Noting Horatio's frown she continued, "I can give you the name of a competitor a couple of blocks over that can take care of you. I'll even call her and give her the heads up that you are coming. It was a mistake on our part. I want to make this right. Joan was just filling in for the day and she didn't read the note on the board for your standing order."

"Marie, it's not a problem," Horatio replied with a tight smile. "How about setting me up with two roses next Saturday, okay? Mari will understand."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. You are a good customer. I can set you up with something else today if you like…lilies, carnations, daisies, perhaps. I have plenty of those."

"I've always been a rose man, Marie. I promised her roses, so only roses will do. Let's just double up next week," Horatio answered a nod.

"Consider it done! Hey, Lieutenant, could I get your help with something…something possibly police related?" Marie asked as she opened the cash drawer and pulled out a plastic card.

"Of course, are you having any trouble around here?"

"Oh no, no trouble at all. A customer dropped her driver's license about an hour ago as she was leaving. I found it on the floor after she had left. I don't know how to get in touch with her. There's no telephone number on the license and her name doesn't show up in the phone book. I'd like to let her know we have this so she won't be looking for it. Any suggestions as to what to do other than to wait for her to come back?"

"You don't have any account information on her? A cell number, land line number, or credit card information maybe?" Horatio probed.

"No, she has no account with me. She drops in as we open every Saturday, picks up a white carnation with a pink ribbon and always pays cash. We know her only as Karen as it shows on her license. Anything you can do to help me find her?"

Tapping the counter, Horatio said, "Let me take the license and I'll run it by her home address. Should she contact you and ask about it, you can give her my cell number and have her call me. I'm off duty this weekend so I won't be back at the Lab until Monday. Tell Karen her license is in safe hands if you hear from her before I do."

Hearing the jingle of the door chimes as another customer entered the shop, Marie smiled her thanks as Horatio turned to leave dropping the license in his jeans pocket with another task to complete on this Saturday…finding Karen Johnson.

The drive out to Dade Memorial Gardens was a quick one as Horatio's thoughts were filled with Yelina's news about Ray's future. He didn't know how he would get through to the boy about the mistake he was making, but knew he had to somehow. Trying to divert his thoughts, he glanced over at the empty passenger's seat of his SUV and sighed. He had never gone to visit Marisol empty-handed. Never. Resisting the urge to change his mind and stop by the florist recommended by Marie, he continued his trip as he began contemplating his conversation with Ray hoping to find the right words to convince the boy that there is no future in the past.

Parking in his usual spot several yards from her resting spot, the red-head left his vehicle and made his way across the manicured green grass toward the granite monument that now symbolized her. It had rained earlier and the headstone was glistening with residual drops in the morning sun. Horatio quickly wiped away the water with his hands making sure that each speck of dust and each water spot was gone, for this spot must be perfect as it was all he had left of her.

Sitting on the ground in front of the stone, he lifted the wilted rose from it's container and said, "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. Marie was out of roses this morning so I don't have anything to bring you. I told her you would understand. You always did. I, um, miss you. Eric misses you, too. Yelina says I should not come out here so much. Maybe I should take her advice, but leaving you here alone is not something I am prepared to do just yet. You are only here because you were married to a cop. And now, Ray thinks that a cop's life is in his future. I wonder what you would say to him if you could. That's my challenge for today. Well, I'm sure you have better things to do rather than listen to my problems. See you next Saturday, Sweetheart. I love you."

Walking through the Gardens, he passed the usual array of people that he saw every Saturday during his visits. There were the groundskeepers who were mowing the grass and operating weed eaters completely oblivious to the activity around them. There were groups of black-clad mourners scattered about under dark tents saying goodbye to loved ones on a Saturday morning just as he had done seven years earlier. And there was her, the woman he saw every Saturday for the past two years when he visited Marisol.

She was sitting alone on a bench staring at a granite monument as she always did. Sometimes her lips moved, but he couldn't hear what was coming out of her mouth. Sometimes she appeared to wipe away tears, but Horatio was careful not to stare, for he knew that, for her, this moment was extremely personal just as it was for him when he sat in front of his silent monument.

Quickening his pace so as not to disturb her, he purposely avoided looking her way failing to notice the white carnation with pink ribbon that she had placed at the base of a small headstone a few moments before. Starting his SUV, he shook his head sadly knowing that she, like he, probably hated Saturdays too.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Westgate Drive in Coconut Grove could have looked like any other street in mainstream America were it not for the Palm Trees. As Horatio drove slowly through the neighborhood looking for the address on Karen Johnson's driver's license, he couldn't help but think that he could easily inhabit such a neighborhood if his circumstances were different.

With his blue eyes shaded by his sunglasses, he scanned both sides of the street noting the activities going on around him. There was the typical assortment of things one would likely find on a Saturday afternoon in Miami. Young mothers, clad in jogging shorts and tank tops, strolled babies down the sidewalks chatting amiably amongst themselves. Children chased soccer balls across well-kept front lawns and smoke from poolside grills, packed with hot dogs and hamburgers, billowed into the muggy afternoon air behind the security of the privacy fences that bordered the lush, tropical backyards.

Continuing the drive through the neighborhood, he suddenly spotted a house at the end of the cul-de-sac that stood out in stark contrast from the others surrounding it. It was a house that looked out of place not due to its architectural style or decorative potential, rather due to lack of maintenance.

Pulling over to the curb, Horatio slowed his Range Rover and read the house number on the side of the front door…442 and realized he had found 442 Westgate Drive…the home of Karen Johnson.

Being taken aback by a lawn that begged to be mowed and seeing windows that were absent of any window treatments, he picked up his phone and placed a call only to be forced to leave a message on voice mail.

"Um, Calleigh, it's Horatio. I need a little help with something. I, um, need some information. I'm on the cell. Call me."

Within minutes his phone buzzed with Calleigh's lighthearted response, "You know Horatio, most men golf, fish, or watch sports on their day off, but I've always suspected you didn't. Please tell me that you are not at home pouring over a stack of cold case files…and if you are, how do you find that relaxing?"

"Calleigh, I'm not at home at the moment. I brought home no case files this weekend, so this call is not work-related. I'm looking for a woman and I might need some help," the red head stated flatly as he continued to focus on the front entrance of the house.

"Oh…okay, um, Horatio, I never imagined you needing help in that department. Are you sure it's me you want to talk to and not maybe Eric?"

Upon hearing her boss clear his throat and enduring a short, chilly silence that followed, Calleigh continued, "Well, then, maybe not. What type of woman are you looking for? Would you like a blonde, brunette or perhaps a matching red-head? Most of my friends are either married or in relationships, but I can ask around for you."

"You can help by running the address of 442 Westgate Drive through the Dade County property data base and see what hits. I need information on the owner of record and history of the property, particularly one Karen Johnson. It's needed a.s.a.p."

"Is she the woman you are looking for Horatio? Do you think she's involved in something? Should I check Codus as well?"

"You can if the property search doesn't give us anything. You may need to check Census records too. I have some personal property of Ms. Johnson that I need to return to her, but I may have difficulty making contact. I'm at her home, but the house doesn't appear to be occupied at the moment. See what you can find out and get back with me."

"Will do! Horatio, have you thought of just taking her belongings back to wherever you met her in the first place. Wouldn't that be a good place to start?"

"I've never met the woman, Calleigh. This isn't what you are thinking. I'm simply doing a friend a favor. Now can you get the information for me?"

Catching a glimpse of an amused Eric across the Lab Calleigh stammered, "Of course, and yes, Horatio, I will. I'll call you when I know something."

"Thank you ma'am…and um, Calleigh, I can hold my own in personal pursuits, but the concern is appreciated."

"I always imagined you could!" Calleigh replied with a grin as she ended the call.

Allowing his cop's instincts to take control, he shut down his vehicle and walked up the paved walkway for a closer inspection of the property. A faded floral wreath and worn welcome mat greeted him at the front door as he reached for the doorbell fully expecting no one to answer.

Hearing rustling noises coming from inside, he peered in the picture window and spotted a tattooed man hastily stuffing a television remote in his pants pocket as he quickly removed a flat screen television from its wall mount and began making his way to the French doors leading out to the patio.

Hurrying back to his SUV, Horatio removed his service revolver from the console and crept around the side of the house alongside the dingy privacy fence. As the younger man slipped past the empty pool and out of the back of the gate, he was startled to hear, "Joey, put the television down and get on the ground. Right now! Do it!"

Turning sharply, the intruder was shocked to be staring down the barrel of Horatio's brandished weapon.

"What the hell? Lieutenant Caine…Are you all over Miami?" Joey exclaimed.

"When it comes to you, Joey…yes! Now again, put the television down and get on the ground with your hands up!"

Dropping to his knees after he set the television on the grass, Joey raised his hands up beside his ears saying, "You got this all wrong, Caine. I own this television set fair and square. I ain't lifted nothin'."

"Now, Joey…we know that you have been relieving people of their possessions since you were in diapers. You've never obtained anything honestly and you certainly don't look like Karen Johnson," Horatio answered with a tight smile.

"Karen Johnson? Am I supposed to know her?"

"She's the woman who lives here, Joey. And she'll appreciate me helping stop a robbery at her home. Now, take the television back inside and I'll run you over to PD myself," Horatio replied still aiming his weapon at the culprit.

"This Johnson chick…is she kinda short…about 110 pounds…short brown hair with blonde highlights?"

"And you know that how, Joey?"

"I just know."

"Ah, so you've been casing this house?" Horatio chuckled. "Maybe you're getting smarter, my friend. There are nicer homes in the neighborhood. But you couldn't get past the alarm systems, so you chose this one instead… a real low-tech kinda place for a low class thief like you."

"Naw…that ain't the way it was! I bought this off the Johnson woman a couple of hours ago. I ain't lying to you, Lieutenant."

"Joey, don't piss down my back and convince me it's raining. How would you know Karen Johnson?" Horatio queried remembering the information on the driver's license.

"She came down to Bayside where me and my boys hang. She told us she had somethin' she was sellin' cause she needed quick cash. I was real excited cause she don't look half bad, but, as it turns out, it was this television and some jewelry. My mama needs a TV, my old lady likes jewelry, and the chick needs some cash, so we made a deal. She seemed kinda desperate."

"So now you're a philanthropist, huh Joey. Always thinking of the family and helping the needy! I take it you can show me a bill of sale for your 'purchase'?" Horatio queried with a grin.

"A bill of what? I ain't got no bill, but I can tell you where you can find Ms. Johnson so you can ask her."

"Now we might be getting somewhere…just how can I find Ms. Johnson so I can check out your story?"

"I see her a lot on the weekends working in this fancy chick place at Bayside. My old lady likes to shop there when she can get a hold of enough dead presidents. The Johnson woman was headed there after I gave her the money for this stuff. She gave me directions to this place and told me how to get inside. Why don't you go ask her…Arianna's Boutique…I think that's the name? She's there and will tell you this is a righteous deal."

"Tell you what Joey…I'll return the television and check into this. If it's legit and you are clean for the first time in your miserable life, I'll see that you get what you deserve. If you are lying to me, know that you will get more than you deserve. Now empty out your pockets and beat it!" Horatio answered as he lowered his weapon, gathered up the television and prepared to enter the sparse domicile of Karen Johnson.

Forty-five minutes later, Horatio found himself parked outside of 'Arianna's Boutique' at Bayside ending a conversation with Calleigh. She had confirmed that Clint and Karen Johnson were the owners of record of the property listed as 442 Westgate Drive. A closer examination of the driver's license in the palm of his hand confirmed something else…that Karen Johnson was the woman he had seen, and tried not to see, at Dade Memorial Gardens.

Stepping into the Boutique he was greeted sensuously by a model-thin blonde two decades his junior.

"Good afternoon, I'm Arianna! Can I interest you in something special for your wife today?"

"Um…no, I am a widower."

"I'm sorry…maybe something for a companion or family member?"

"No…there's no one…I need some information on a possible employee of yours. Do you have an employee by the name of Karen Johnson? "

"I do. Karen has worked here for the past two months."

"Is she available? I'd like to speak with her if I may?"

"Of course, she's with a customer in a private fitting. She should be finished momentarily. Feel free to look around and if you see anything you like…and I mean anything…let me know. I'll tell Karen you are here," Arianna purred as she walked toward the fitting rooms.

As he waited to complete his unplanned task of the day, the red-head looked over an assortment of silk blouses and scarves marveling at their price tags. The lengths people would go to look chic in Miami never ceased to amaze him. Personally, he preferred a simpler, more subtle look, but in a city that prided itself in its trendiness, he wasn't surprised at what he saw.

A soft voice caught his attention forcing him to look up as she said, "Good afternoon, sir. I was told you wanted to see me."

"Are you Karen Johnson, ma'am?"

"I am. Did I sell you something you need to return?"

"Um…No, this is something personal. I have something to…" Horatio began noting the tense look growing on Karen's face.

"Please…can we discuss this outside? I don't want others to hear," Karen interrupted nervously glancing over at her employer.

"Okay, I don't understand, but if you prefer," Horatio replied.

Stepping outside the front of the establishment, Karen faced Horatio squarely and whispered, "Look, I know you are here about the money and you will get it…every cent will be paid back. I just need a little more time. Please, I just need a little more time."

"What are you talking about? I don't follow?"

"I know you are from the collection agency and I will pay you back. I get paid this afternoon and I expect another deposit any day now. Please give me three business days…please."

"Ma'am, I'm not from any collection agency. I'm here for another reason."

"Another reason? What other reason? Who are you?"

"I'm Horatio Caine…Lieutenant Horatio Caine and I'm here to…" Horatio began looking into a pair of frightened brown eyes.

"Oh no! You are here to tell me that Clint is dead!" Karen mumbled as she fell to the pavement.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Horatio awoke in the wee hours of the morning on Sunday with a start. Sleep had not come easily that night. He had finally drifted off into a troubled slumber shortly after midnight after spending the evening doing routine chores…paying bills online, sorting out suits and shirts for drop-off at the dry cleaners the next day, and catching up on the neglected John Florio novel waiting patiently on his bedside table.

After reading three chapters, his eyelids felt heavy so he closed the book, tossed it down to the foot of the bed, and dozed off still propped up on his pillow his mouth slightly open as the sound of soft snoring and the warm glow of the bedside lamp filled the room.

Then two hours later, without warning, his eyes flew open and, for a moment, he was still re-living that tragic day years ago…one that he thought of so many times, usually on a Saturday when the memory of it took a stranglehold on his thinking.

Collecting his thoughts, he slipped out of bed and padded down the hallway to the kitchen where he opened the refrigerator and instinctively reached for a beer. Glancing down at the slightly noticeable protrusion of his belly over the band of his boxers, he shook his head and selected a bottle of water instead.

Making his way through his darkened living area, he ran his hand through his tousled red hair as he settled himself in a lounge chair on the deck and stared out into the ocean illuminated by the crescent moon. Sipping the water, he thought of Karen Johnson and her large brown eyes…eyes that were filled with fear and later relief when he handed her the driver's license as he revealed the true reason for his visit to her workplace.

Her face had lingered with him all evening and he knew it was her initial reaction outside the Boutique that had prompted the memories that had awakened him moments before. The passing of fifteen years had not dulled one moment of that night for him and he was sure for Yelina as well, despite her determination to distance herself from it.

_The chirp of his phone had interrupted the muggy evening causing the hazel-eyed beauty sitting across from him to frown and shake her head._

"_Go ahead…answer it. I know you are going to," she said wryly leaning back into her chair with a loud sigh._

"_Um…I have to. It won't be anything. I'll be right back," he replied leaving his seat and stepping away from the table._

"_You say that every time," she replied sarcastically as she watched him walk away._

"_Yeah, it's Horatio," he answered tersely._

"_Lieutenant Caine, you are needed at MDPD. It's an emergency!"_

"_I am not on duty this evening. I will not take a new case until Monday. Call someone else…I'm…busy," Horatio replied glancing back at his irritated dinner companion staring at him frim the table._

"_It's not a new case, Lieutenant. It's personal…it is an emergency. We sent an officer to your home, but you weren't there. We need to talk to you immediately."_

"_What's happened? Is it Yelina or Ray, Jr.?"_

"_We'd prefer to discuss this in person, Lieutenant. It is very important."_

"_Tell me…is it Yelina? Are Yelina and Ray, Jr. okay?_

"_Yes, they are…but…"_

"_Raymond? Is it Raymond?" he interrupted anxiously._

"_We shouldn't do this over the phone… there's protocol…we need you to come down to headquarters, sir."_

_Ending the call immediately, he went back to the table and began making apologies to his date knowing that another bridge had more than likely been burned in his personal life._

_An hour later, he was sitting in the driveway in front of Yelina and Raymond's Palm Frond Drive home dreading the conversation that was to follow. He bowed his head and prayed for words...the right words...before finally leaving his vehicle and slowly walking to the front steps. Ringing the bell, a naked and soap-covered Ray, Jr. greeted him with an exasperated Yelina in hot pursuit._

"_Daddy, did you forget your key again?" the youngster asked excitedly as he swung open the door expecting to see the face of someone else._

"_No…but someone forgot their towel," he answered softly as he lifted the three year old up in his arms and held him close._

"_Horatio! We thought you were Raymond. He always leaves his house key when he's out on assignment. Come in, it's good to see you. Would you care for a drink or dinner perhaps? I've already cleaned up, but I'll put together some left-overs," Yelina answered catching up to the pair._

"_No Sweetheart...not tonight. I'm...um... here for another reason."_

"_Okay…what's up? What's going __on? It's kind of late."_

"_Let's put the boy to bed, okay. We need to talk."_

"_But_, _I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play, Uncle 'Ratio! Mommy, can I play with Uncle 'Ratio?" Ray Jr. protested._

_Catching a glimpse of Horatio's red-rimmed eyes, Yelina's experience as a detective took over and she instinctively knew the reason for his visit. Raymond was dead. She had made the same visit to other families numerous times. She knew the look...she knew the tone of voice. She knew that the unthinkable was now happening to her. She stared at her brother-in-law and replied softly, "Not tonight, baby. Let's get into your jammies and go to sleep. Mommy wants you to sleep and have sweet dreams."_

_Wiping away a tear, the Colombian beauty reached for her son as Horatio whispered, "Let me do this, Yelina. Go lie down on the couch. I'll take care of him…he doesn't need to see you like this right now. I'll be back with you in a minute. Go on now...lie down."_

_Walking down the hallway with the child in his arms, he was peppered with questions... 'Why is Mommy crying? Why is Mommy sad?'. He replied with soft answers much like he had answered similar questions from a young Raymond decades before in their shared bedroom in New York when the after-effects of the violence in the family home became too much to for them to bear._

_Leaving Ray, Jr.'s bedside and returning to the great room, he had discovered Yel__ina on her knees in front of the couch pounding her fists angrily in the cushions. She was sobbing violently into the upholstery, rocking back and forth at times, pulling at her wavy brown hair at other times._

_He watched her for a while silently wishing he could do as she was doing…letting it all out…but he couldn't. He just couldn't. It stayed bottled up inside with nowhere to go...as grief had for much of his life. All he could do was stand guard as her shield while her grief erupted from her slender body into the silent room and his remained within him._

"_I want to see him. Take me to him. Take me to my husband!" Yelina tearfully said as she rose to her feet trying to compose herself._

"_No, Sweetheart. That's not a good idea."_

"_He's my husband and the father of my child. I want to see him. I want to hold him and touch him one more time! I need to do that!"_

"_He…can't be seen. He…" Horatio began turning his head to avoid Yelina's teary gaze._

_"What do you mean he can't be seen?_ _How did it happen? What happened? I have a right to know!" Yelina demanded stepping in front of Horatio forcing him to look at her._

"_He was shot point-blank the face during a bad meth deal. He's …um…unrecognizable, Yelina. The Feds say it's better if we don't see him and I agree. You don't need to remember him like that. I don't want to remember him like that."_

"_Can't they clean him up, Horatio? I just want to see him. I can take it. I've seen worse out there! You've seen worse!"_

_"I know you have, Yelina. We both want to see him, Sweetheart, but, the damage is too extensive and it is different when it is your own. It's not a good idea. Raymond himself wouldn't want you to experience that…let's honor him, okay?"_

"_He was rather vain you know…he prided himself in his good looks. And he was beautiful...my Raymond was so beautiful..." Yelina began as the sobs began again._

"_Yes he was. My brother was a unique spirit. He will always live in and with us…especially through the boy. He will never be far from me, Yelina, and neither will you and Ray, Jr. I am here for you, Sweetheart. We'll get through this...somehow." _

For the rest of the evening and through the years that followed, he had stayed with her…not in the way he once longed to be with her, but in the way their familial relationship now dictated that he relate to her.

There had been a time when old feelings between them re-surfaced, but Raymond's memory and their shared love for him always seemed to be looking over their shoulders. Finally, one day after a late-night dinner at her home, Yelina shocked him when she asked him to kiss her. He tried…really tried, but the passion he felt was quenched as he began to deepen the kiss, and suddenly remembered his brother's smiling face staring at him from a nearby photograph. He had seen the look of rejection on her face as he quickly pulled back and they had never broached the subject again. Her relationship with Rick Stetler along with the discovery of Madison Keaton quickly followed and their familial roles once again became their permanent personal comfort zones.

He had become her rock rather than her lover…her protector…her go-to-guy whenever he was needed whether it was for the mundane or the important. He was there for her as a brother-in-law should be…as family was meant to be.

Then, as the thoughts of Yelina faded away, he remembered Karen Johnson and their brief encounter earlier in the afternoon. There was something about her that reminded him of Yelina Salas. It wasn't her appearance, rather her circumstances and the look on her face when she thought her husband was dead.

Who was she? Why did her eyes reflect such fear? Why were her financial circumstances so dire? Why did she come to Dade Memorial Gardens alone every Saturday without the comfort of a loved one? Who was her rock? Who was her go-to-guy? What was her secret? That was one question he was determined to find out when he spoke with her husband, Vice Squad Detective Clint Johnson on Monday morning.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Horatio stood unnoticed in the doorway of the squad room of the Vice Unit as his blue eyes scanned the bustling scene around him. Hearing the incessant ringing of desktop telephones and listening to the jovial banter between the plain clothed officers, he watched them search for pens and legal pads as they shuffled through the stacks of case files on their cluttered desks and smiled to himself. He had to admit that this was one aspect of his professional life that he desperately missed…the camaraderie of a police squad room.

When offered the position at the Crime Lab, he had been honored yet conflicted. Science had always been a passion of his for as long as he could remember. As a child, when most boys were content to receive sports equipment for Christmas or birthday gifts, he preferred science books and chemistry sets. It had angered his father as he preferred a son who shared his passion for athletics, and that had led to conflict between the two, but a young Horatio sluffed it off. He enjoyed science because it made sense to him when the dysfunctional Caine household did not. There was logic in science when all around him seemed illogical. There was order when life spiraled out of control. It could be said that for him, science had been his first love…a lover that had remained constant when others failed him.

Along with science, an interest in police work developed…mostly out of familial devotion and loneliness. His favorite maternal uncle had been a distinguished veteran of the NYPD. John O'Connor, his mother's youngest brother, started off as a beat cop in Queens before transferring to Manhattan with the rank of Captain. As a youngster, Horatio listened with fascination to the stories 'Johnny Boy' would tell about the cases he had worked when he, his mother, and Raymond visited his grandparent's home. The mystery, the intrigue, the adrenalin of each unsolved case quickened his senses and made him wish he could quit school, don a uniform, and go for a ride along…learning on the street rather than in the confines of a classroom.

The loyalty…the blue line…the brotherhood that is a mainstay in police work held massive appeal to him. Perhaps it was the social isolation he lived with in the Caine family that made the difference, but he had to admit, that even to this day, the 'oneness', the solidarity that is unique to police work grounded him in a career that often bewildered others in light of his keen intellect and capabilities. His father had been infuriated at his career choice after college, but again, Horatio could have cared less…police work…it was his choosing…it was his love…and it would become his life's work.

Hearing his name called from across the room, his thoughts were jolted back to the reason for his visit…locating Clint Johnson.

"Hey, Lieutenant Caine, what brings you over to this neck of the woods? Bringing some new cases over or checking up on some old ones?" an old friend of Raymond's asked noticing the red-head as he left his desk to replenish his coffee.

"Not to worry, Eddie…no new cases today. Just making contact. How are you? How's the family?"

"We're all good, Horatio. How are Yelina and Ray? Susan mentioned Yelina just the other day. We don't see her that much anymore. And how about yourself?" Eddie asked shaking Horatio's extended hand.

"No complaints on my end and Yelina and Ray, Jr. are well."

"I, uh, should have called you after the Toller shooting…stuff just got in the way. It's this job, you know, it can consume you…my apologies for not making contact. I heard you were laid up for a while."

"I was down for a couple of weeks, Eddie. But old dogs like me are hard to keep under the porch. I've bounced back okay. Reported back to work before the brass wanted me to, so all is well…I'm good."

"Yeah, Raymond used to say you were one tough cuss. Always admired that about you….grab a cup of joe and stick around for a while. The worker bees like hearing what the queen bees are doing in the Crime Lab," Eddie joked as he pointed Horatio in the direction of the coffee machine.

"I'm here on some 'unofficial' business, Eddie. Can you point me in the direction of Detective Clint Johnson? I'd like a word with him."

Immediately noting the change of expression on Eddie's face, Horatio saw the younger detective take a sip of his coffee, look around the room, and softly ask, "Why are you looking for Clint? Is he in trouble or something?"

"He's in no trouble that I know of. I'd just like to speak with him about a personal matter. Is that his desk in the corner?" Horatio asked noting a pristine desk with an empty chair in the far corner of the room.

"Yes it is, but, uh, he, uh, hasn't been here in a while. You won't find Clint around here," Eddie answered nervously.

"Where might I find him? It is important that I speak to him."

"I don't know, Lieutenant...I really don't know. I'd better get back to my desk. I'm on the clock, you know."

"Eddie, can we talk privately? How about the café around the corner in a half hour, okay?"

"Cops eat lunch there. Bridgeway Park in forty-five…now play along with me," the detective whispered noting the increasingly curious glances of fellow officers milling about the room.

"Thanks, Lieutenant for dropping by with the personal invite. Tell Yelina that Susan and I will touch base with her about Ray's party. Don't be a stranger and take care," Eddie replied loudly as he returned to his desk.

"Much appreciated Eddie…Yelina and Ray look forward to seeing you," Horatio answered as he exited the room.

Forty-five minutes later, Horatio found himself sitting on bench in an isolated corner near the dog run of Bridgeway Park awaiting Eddie's arrival. The detective got spooked…really spooked when Clint Johnson's name came up and Horatio was puzzled as to why. The empty desk told a story of its own. No files, no desk calendar, no coffee mug, pencil cup, personal photographs, nothing at all…just a clean desktop, an empty chair and a telephone.

Hearing a clearing of a throat in the distance, Horatio looked behind him and saw a former co-worker who had become a new nemesis…Internal Affairs Director Max Dunlap.

"Ah, Lieutenant Dunlap, I'm surprised to see you alone back there. Thought you might be out walking your dog on this beautiful fall day, but perhaps even your pooch has problems dealing with you," the red-head chuckled.

"Funny, Horatio, now you know I don't have or even like dogs. And I think you know why I'm here."

"Yes, well, I've always heard that dogs have an amazing instinct when it comes to relationships with people. Now to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Why are you looking for Clint Johnson?"

"Who said I was doing that?"

"You showed up at Vice this morning looking for Detective Johnson and I know you had Calleigh Duquesne digging up information about his property. What is your interest in the detective?" Dunlap asked seating himself beside Horatio.

"Just interested in meeting and perhaps assisting a fellow officer, Max, is that against some new protocol of yours?"

"What kind of assistance are you talking about, Horatio?"

"What kind does he need?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you," Dunlap replied avoiding Horatio's stare.

"Fair enough, then I'm not at liberty to discuss my interest in him either," Horatio replied smiling slightly.

"Why your sudden interest in him? What have your heard about him? Has anything connected with him shown up at the Crime Lab?"

"Not at this time. Should it have?"

"God, I hope not," Dunlap replied with relief.

"Look, I'll go out on a limb and show you mine in the hopes that you'll show me yours. I ran across Johnson's wife the other day. She's in a bind…a serious financial bind and is concerned for her husband. What's going on there?"

"Oh…so it's just marital and financial problems…nothing for IAB to be concerned about."

"The welfare of a fellow officer is always something for IAB to be concerned about, Max. Your job entails more than just nailing some officer's balls to the wall because he had a lapse in police protocol. Karen Johnson says her husband hasn't been in touch with her for weeks and she's concerned for his safety. What's he into? He wasn't in his squad room this morning and Eddie's phone call to you lets me know that something is amiss here."

"Clint Johnson is working undercover and should not be disturbed. Leave Clint Johnson alone."

"Does he know that his wife is in trouble…that she's selling personal property to pay the family's bills and trying desperately to get in touch with her husband?"

"A cop who is undercover can't be at a family member's immediate disposal. Karen Johnson is a cop's wife so knows that and you, as a cop, also know that Horatio. You worked UC back in the day. Don't act like you don't know the score."

"Yeah, Max, I did, and I was single at the time. It's hell on families when you work UC. I would have never considered such an assignment if I were a married man…too much disconnect. When was his last check-in with his CO?"

"It's been months, Horatio." Dunlap sighed.

"Months…did you say months, Max? Check-ins should happen weekly…every two weeks maximum. What's he working?"

"Women, narcotics, you name it. He's infiltrated one of the biggest organized crime rings in South Florida. We hope to hear something soon. He's a good officer and does good work. His reputation is spotless."

"Max, my questions about Detective Johnson spooked Eddie and you as well. Are you concerned that the man is dead? Are you thinking that Clint Johnson is dead and that's why he's missed so many check-ins?"

"I don't know, Horatio…I hope not, but I don't know."

"What is your grand plan for bringing him in? When will you begin the process of reconnecting with him?"

"When we can find him...if we can find him," Lieutenant Dunlap replied somberly.

"My guess is that you'll need a little help with that, huh," Horatio answered rising from the bench and walking away.

As the sun was setting in the Miami sky, Karen Johnson took a final walk-through of her Westgate Drive home and wiped away a tear refusing to cry. She had never imagined that her life would take this turn…that she would be homeless.

She remembered the weekend they had moved into the now-empty house. Her mother had kept Bella, an infant at the time, as she and Clint along with Clint's partner Eddie and wife, Susan had moved their meager belongings into what they considered their dream home. They had worked hard to build something together and that something had now dwindled down to nothing.

The furniture they had bought over the years had been sold in dribs and drabs weeks ago with the exception of the contents of Bella's room…that she had held onto as long as she could. The electronics and appliances were long gone as well. All that she had left was what she could fit in the trunk and backseat of her car…some clothing, toiletries, a few dishes, and some of Bella's memorabilia. The rest of it…was just a memory.

Leaving the house under the cover of darkness to avoid the peering eyes of the neighbors, she wondered where she would spend the night. She had no money for a hotel and knew that a shelter wouldn't take an adult without children, so she resolved to sleep in the backseat of the car at a park in a safe area of the city. She was physically and emotionally exhausted so maybe she could lock herself in the car, get some rest, and re-group the next morning. That was her plan but she knew that plans could fail, after all she had planned for a future with her husband and little girl, and this was where her plans left her.

Driving through the city, she knew she must conserve her cash until her next payday at the Boutique so she decided to forego dinner and look for a place to park for the night. She didn't think she could eat anything anyway so she drove a few miles farther until she remembered a pretty spot near a children's playground…a place where Bella loved to play when she was alive.

Arriving there and parking beside a palm tree, she slipped into the backseat, removing her shoes as she nestled under the throw she had retrieved from Bella's bed. Closing her eyes, she prayed for the first time since the day of Bella's death…a death she had been blamed for…a death she blamed herself for. Then, mercifully, fatigue and sweet sleep overtook her delaying her pain for a few short hours.

TBC


End file.
